The Airing
by nifftee
Summary: Post 2.06 Lix/Randall. This is my first fic, don't know where it will go. Just love these characters!
1. Chapter 1

The Airing

Chapter 1

Bel was in the hospital with Freddie. Hector had taken Marnie home. It didn't escape Lix's notice that Hector had repressed a shudder as he'd said goodnight. He'd seen what Cilenti had worked when Freddie was carried into the ambulance. _None of us will sleep tonight, _she thought, sitting in one of the newsroom chairs. Her hand tapped an unlit cigarette against the formica table. Drawn near to her was one of the office's many bakelite phones, in case Bel rang, in case there was news. The doors opened and Isaac and Cissy burst in.

'Ms Storm! Sh-should I turn on the light?' Isaac stammered, his arms full of script, tape, photos, the usual detritus left over from broadcast.

'No thank you Mr Wengrow, I'm perfectly content in the moonlight.'

He nodded and placed the items on his desk. Cissy stood with her coat on, watching Lix warily, 'Would you like me to stay? I've got lots to be getting on with.'

'Oh but it's your wedding day-' Isaac interrupted.

Lix waved them to silence, 'Both of you should get along. I'm going to have a cigarette,' neither of them commented on it remaining unlit, 'and wait for Ms Rowley to call from the hospital.' Cissy and Isaac exchanged worried looks.

'I ask you, just go!' Lix immediately regretted the impatience in her voice. With a flickering smile she added, 'Honestly darlings do as I suggest. Mr Wengrow will, no doubt, be in early tomorrow morning and needs some respite. Miss Cooper,' Lix brought her hand to her chest in a gesture of apology, 'I am sorry, _Mrs Ola_, simply must see her husband.' Cissy held the door open as Isaac collected his coat and hat. They chorused farewell as they left and the newsroom fell silent again. Lix went into her office and fetched a tumbler and a half full bottle of whiskey. Collapsing back into her chair she unstoppered the bottle and waited, pulling in a jittery breath. She listened to the clock tick and then, in a flourish, recapped it and pushed the bottle away to the other side of the table. Clenching her teeth she blinked back tears.

Outside Lime Grove Cissy and Isaac had just parted when she saw Mr Brown. He'd finished giving a statement to the police and was stood alone, looking at the heavens above. She could see the steam of his breath. 'Mr Brown..?' His expression was desolate and Cissy immediately regretted disturbing him. 'Yes Miss Cooper?'

'Mr Brown, I thought you ought to know... I, I'm worried about Ms Storm.' Even as she said it Cissy felt she was wasting the Head of News' time. Mr Brown waited. 'She's in the newsroom, waiting for Ms Rowley to 'phone.'

'It's been a distressing night for all of us Miss Cooper.'

'Yes Mr Brown but... but she was upset earlier, before we knew about Mr Lyon. I just thought you should know.' Mr Brown nodded solemnly, 'Thank you.' He headed back into the studios and Mrs Ola began her walk to the bus stop. She thought first of poor Mr Lyon and hoped dearly that he would recover. By the time she'd purchased her ticket however her thoughts had turned to Sey waiting for her at home.

The corridor Randall Brown walked down was deserted. After the discovery of Mr Lyon's body, he had taken sole responsibility for talking to the authorities, both inside and outside the BBC. He felt bone weary but his mind was running in circles, with thoughts of Mr Lyon, Sofia, that evening's programme, Lix, Cilenti, his breakdown. It was all disordered thought chasing thought. Turning off the corridor before the newsroom he came slowly upon Lix's office. The lights were off and at first he thought she might be at her desk in the darkness. 'I'm in here Randall.' Her voice was flat and came from the room beyond. She was facing away from him.

Lix gestured to the chair next to her and he sat down. 'Bel said she would ring when the doctors have an idea of the damage. Poor girl. Poor boy.'

'If I'd seen this coming Lix I'd have never-'

'I know. You're a journalist, not a monster.' Randall nodded in mute thanks. He noticed the whiskey.

'You've been...?'

'No. When things get really bad, that's when I stop drinking, remember?'

'Seville.' This time it was Lix's turn to nod. Randall took her hand in his. For a long time the two of them sat together in silence. Each wondered what the other was thinking. Each worried there was nothing to be said.

The peal of the 'phone made them start. 'Yes, hello? How is he?' Lix cradled the receiver to her ear, 'But he's stable..? Okay, yes darling, you're staying? Can I fetch you anything? I'll ring tomorrow,' Lix's voice caught as she said, 'Oh poor Freddie, I'm- I'm so very relieved, yes, serious but stable, very well. Take care darling, give him all our love, goodnight.' She hung up the phone and took a huge sigh, running her head through her hands. 'They think he'll recover. Long road, small steps, but he'll recover.' Randall let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Lix got to her feet, 'We can leave.' She put on her coat and gathered her handbag as Randall, buttoning his coat and avoiding her eye, asked, 'Where will you go now?' Lix looked at him keenly, forcing him to meet her gaze.

'Come home with me Randall. We both need company.' Randall gave a stiff nod though his heart soared. Nothing scared him so much as facing the night, and Sofia's death, alone.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

A brisk ten minute walk later and Lix was unlocking the door to flat 7b. She paused with the door ajar, 'I ought to warn you Randall, the flat is clean but untidy.' The door swung open to reveal a short hallway with a living room with a bay window looking out on the street below. Save for a small television set in one corner, a record player in another, a threadbare settee and two careworn chairs the overwhelming impression was of books everywhere, covering the walls. Piled on a low table were several prints, waiting to be framed. To the right a small kitchen with a breakfast table and the usual mod cons was sparsely kept while to the left there were two doors, one leading to the bedroom and the other to the bathroom. Randall stood in the middle of the living room and looked around at the jumble of books, records, newspaper clippings and wilting potted plants while Lix quickly divested herself of their coats and her shoes. 'It's not too overwhelming, is it?' she asked anxiously. Coming back from the hallway she saw a small smile playing around Randall's lips, 'It is exactly as I would have imagined it.' She felt a blush. His fingers itched with the repressed desire to begin arranging and rearranging. _The books, sorted into fiction, non-fiction and poetry then subdivided by author? Or perhaps by genre, region or style?_ He was surprised to note a total absence of photographs.

Lix had passed into the bathroom and, to take advantage of her absence, Randall focused on the prints and sketches covering the coffee table. He could at least organize these. Some she must have bought, a typically scatological depiction of Britannia by Gillray, a drawing of Jesus and the moneylenders which the still-attached tag identified as originating from the studio of Rembrandt. Among them there was a small bundle of portraits in pencil sent by a niece. One was of a striped cat lounging on a front step, another of an unidentified young woman, perhaps a self-portrait? And there was one, Randall's eyes widened, of Lix herself, bespectacled, sitting in a cafe with a cup of tea and a lit cigarette.

Randall picked this one up and examined it under the brighter kitchen light. The subject was smiling wryly and her eyebrows were arched as if the viewer was being amusing or absurd. The niece had captured the kindly look in Lix's eyes which always took the edge off the biting mockery. 'Susie is good, isn't she? Picked a poor subject though,' Lix had reappeared in the doorway. Randall cleared his throat, 'Are you going to put it up?'

'God no, I don't want to be reminded of my advancing decrepitude,' Lix took a drag on her cigarette, 'keep it if you like,' she said airily, but a shadow crossed her face, 'a memento mori, if you will.' Still looking at the portrait Randall felt his eyes fill with tears.

Lix sat heavily on the settee and concentrated on her cigarette. She noted that the prints were now arranged, largest on the bottom, the small sketch of the cat on the top. Randall asked where the bathroom was and she gestured. As the door closed she thought about his red eyes. _Not tonight, please Randall. I am too tired to see your tears. If you start I'll start and we'll never stop._ Since the call confirming Freddie was alive, and likely to stay that way, Lix's thoughts had circled back to Sofia. She'd convinced herself her daughter was safe but that little girl she remembered had died seventeen years ago. The enormity of this felt like a weight on her chest. Randall joined her on the settee, declining a cigarette. He'd splashed water on his face and a drip still lingered by his jaw. She reached over and rubbed it away.

Randall tried to control his breathing as Lix touched his face. It was an act of heart-stopping intimacy. In the years in Paris, when he'd awake in the early hours, thinking of the daughter he never knew, he would calm himself by thinking of Lix and those years in Spain. He would try to remember a touch on the back of the neck, a squeeze of his knee, the way she would wrap her arms around his waist, her habit of pinning him down. Lying in his bed alone he would almost feel he could conjure up the reality of her.

He took off his glasses and placed them precisely on top of the prints. Randall closed his eyes and rested his head on the back of the settee. Lix looked at him in profile. She thought back to the day before, an eon ago, when they had sat in that pub and he'd taken off his glasses to rub his forehead. Randall never removed his glasses. His eyesight was appalling. Once, in Spain, she'd teased him for looking liking he was trying to read the small print, even in the act of lovemaking. He'd retorted that the furrowed brow was a compliment to the concentration she required. He had to use every other sense to compensate for the porcelain blob he shared his bed with. Laughing, she'd thrown a pillow at him for that.

Putting out her cigarette, Lix got to her feet and took both Randall's hands in her own. 'Lets go to bed.'

'You don't have to... I can go home...'

'Nonsense,' Having led him into her bedroom Lix started undoing his tie. 'It's just one night. It would be the height of rudeness to make you up a bed through there.' She shrugged off his jacket, 'And besides, I want you to stay'. Briefly their eyes met.

Lix turned away and went over to a wardrobe, fetching two coat hangers. With excessive care she put Randall's jacket onto one of them and placed it on the back of the bedroom door. Turning back to him she unclasped his braces and folded them neatly. _She's doing it for me, _he thought, _putting away my clothes as I would_. Now she was undoing his top buttons, revealing his white vest. Randall swallowed hard. Beneath the pain and anguish and exhaustion thrummed the old desire. Being undressed by Lix made his heart beat wildly. In their other life she would pull his tie undone, rip at his shirt buttons, giggle as she pushed down his trousers. Now she was treating him gently, tenderly, as though he might break. _She's scared I'll sob again_, he thought sadly. Taking his shirt Lix folded it and placed it with the cufflinks and handkerchief.

She felt nervous untying his shoes and directing him to step out of them. As she stood up she took in the sight of Randall in just his vest and trousers. Fleetingly, she wondered how many other women had seem him like this in their years apart. She had thought he would have married a sombre Parisian and was surprised to learn that he was transferring from the Paris bureau with no family in tow. _On the other hand, how typical of Randall_. He had, as far as she knew, lived like a monk before they met, perhaps he hadn't been willing to go through it all again. Having taken off his trousers she folded them onto the other hanger and it joined the jacket on the hook. 'Time for bed,' she half whispered and she unthinkingly led him to the right side of the bed, _his_ side of the bed. He sat down wearily and put his head in his hands. Instinctively, she fell to her knees and took his hands in hers. 'I don't know what to say,'

'Nor do I,' he mumbled,

'I can't think of anything to do save this. Ridiculous.' Lix peeled off his socks and placed them in his shoes. Randall lay down on the mattress and Lix pulled the covers over him. He looked small in her bed. 'I'll be along in a minute' she whispered, kissing his forehead. He closed his eyes as she left.

Randall breathed in the scent of her room. Her perfume lingered in the air. The bed linen was soft and smelt of her too. Opening his eyes he looked at how she had arranged his clothing. The shoes were tucked neatly under her dresser chair on which rested his shirt, tie, braces, handkerchief and cufflinks. The jacket and trousers hung 'just so' on the door. _I couldn't have done it better myself. _Something on the dresser caught his eye. It was a framed picture, the only one he had seen in the whole apartment. Getting out of bed he moved gingerly toward it. He could hear water running from the bathroom, Lix would be performing her ablutions. Picking up the frame he could make out a black and white photograph with a central figure sitting on a window sill. Hastily, he retrieved his glasses. Sitting back on the bed with the frame he now saw that the photo was of her from March 1937. He knew this because he had taken it. This Lix was laughing, turned toward the camera and away from the open window. She was wearing trousers which were too long for her and a white shirt open at the waist. They were his clothes. She always used to like wearing his clothes despite his protestations that she undid the creases. Secretly, he had loved the effrontery of it. Underneath the shirt one could just make out the shape of her breasts. She had near her a sheaf of papers, in danger of blowing out the window, and a cup of coffee, very black. The Lix in the photograph looked young and fearless, a crusading photojournalist in the middle of a civil war, gallows humour intact. The water stopped running. Not wanting to be caught snooping Randall replaced the frame, placed his glasses with his other items and got back into bed. As he closed his eyes he thought of the photograph, one of the best he'd ever taken.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Lix looked at herself, sans makeup, in the bathroom mirror. An old woman who'd just learnt her daughter was dead looked back at her, _which is about right_, she thought. Randall looked old too. Gone was his light brown hair and ready smile. Lix screwed up her eyes to prevent the fall of tears and passed through the flat, turning off lights and double locking the front door. As she entered her bedroom she saw Randall turned on his side, eyes shut, facing the bedside light. Relieved, she went to the other side of the bed. She undressed quickly, dispensing with the careful folding his clothes required. Her trousers, blouse and socks were tossed into the far corner. Jewellery was unceremoniously dumped onto the dresser. She looked over her shoulder to check Randall was still turned away, before unhooking her bra. In a chest of drawers she found a long-forgotten silk chemise. Lix normally preferred to sleep naked, _which Randall knows_, she thought with annoyance. At least this was a halfway house between total undress and full length pajamas. _It's not like we'll be touching_, she told herself, as she slipped into bed.

'Randall? Could you get the light?' A bare arm reached out from under the sheets and switched off the lamp. Now darkness joined the silence. _So, he's awake_, Lix thought, though this knowledge brought her no closer to knowing what to do. All of a sudden, Randall turned onto his back and reached his hand out to grip hers. 'Thank you.' His voice was low and cracked.

'There's no need to thank me. I'm amazed you can bear to be here.'

'What do you mean..? Lix..?'

She felt her throat constrict and took a few haltering breaths. 'I'd understand if you hated me Randall. I, ah,' her voice broke, 'I gave her away, to the Malfrands. She might, she might still...' all was lost in a series of racking sobs.

Randall gripped her hand tighter. He was momentarily at a loss. The sound of her sobs filled the room. _This is what she's been keeping from me_. Was it this that Cissy had overheard all those hours ago? He was whispering, begging her not to do this to herself but she couldn't, or wouldn't, hear. Across the bed he reached out to her, felt for her shoulder and turned her to face him. He put his arms around her, pulling her nearer. Her head nestled under his chin and the sound of her sobs reverberated into his chest. Tears coursed down Randall's face as he attempted to shush her. After what felt like an eternity Lix's breathing regulated itself and he felt her use his vest to dry her eyes. Randall's face was wet with tears. He was still holding her close to him. He knew he should let her go but didn't think he could move. Nor did he yet trust his voice to speak. More time passed. Lix seemed reluctant to move so there they both lay, arms wrapped round one another.

'I, uh, I saw the picture on your dresser,' he said eventually, his voice sounding hoarse. She lifted her head and Randall felt, rather than saw, her interest. She smiled wanly, 'I found it a few weeks ago. I was looking for, ah, Sofia's birth certificate and there was a box of old photographs, things from Spain. You took it,'

'I know,'

'I liked it... and there were so many of me where I looked awful-'

'You never looked awful,'

'-that I thought I'd get it framed.'

'Don't blame yourself for what happened,' Lix sighed heavily. Randall kissed her forehead. 'I don't hate you. I never hated you.' She nodded. Slowly, they disentangled themselves but remained side by side. She turned over and he pulled close to her, his arms wrapped around her waist. He kissed the nape of her neck. She stroked his bare arms. 'I'm pleased you're here Randall,' Lix said quietly,

'There's nowhere I'd rather be,' he answered.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

When she awoke light streamed through the thin bedroom curtains. She reached out to his side of the bed but the mattress was cool and empty. Rolling over she saw that Randall was missing, his clothes gone. _He's fled,_ she thought sadly. Sitting up in bed she ran her hands through her tousled hair. It was gone nine. Lix was astonished she'd slept so long. _Exhaustion wins over anguish in the end_. It had felt wonderful having Randall so near in the night, his wiry arms around her, his kiss on the nape of her neck. And now he was gone, retreated into private grief, or already back at Lime Grove. The front door opened and closed. With a leap in her heart she couldn't feign she heard him move into the kitchen, and then the sound of cupboard and fridge doors opening and closing. Minutes later Randall entered the bedroom, 'Ah, you've woken,'

'Yes, I thought you'd gone,'

'Just to the shop. I thought we might have some breakfast before work,'

'Excellent plan. I ought to call Bel,' Lix got out of bed and felt immediately exposed in her chemise. Randall didn't avert his eyes. 'Could you pass me the dressing gown?' He fetched an embroidered turquoise silk dressing gown from the bedroom door and held it for her as she put it on and tied it at the waist. 'Eggs and bacon?'

'Lovely.'

Ten minutes later she was sitting on the settee, black coffee in one hand, a 'phone in the other. Smells of frying bacon and toast wafted through from the kitchen. 'Oh darling, you haven't been there all night? Any change? No, I'm calling from home, I haven't seen Mr Brown yet,' Randall popped his head round the door, 'Yes, I'll make sure he knows. And Hector's coming in? Good man, I always liked him. You're not to worry about anything save getting home and snatching some sleep. Honestly, we'll take care of everything in the office, it's the least we can do. Very well, bye for now.' Lix hung up the 'phone and joined Randall in the kitchen. She was amused to see him wearing her barely-used apron, his sleeves rolled up to avoid the spitting bacon. _Always so neat, and I still want to mess you up_. His asking after Freddie shook her out of her reverie, 'Still in critical condition, they've fixed what they can. The big question is head trauma, and we won't know about that till he comes round. Bel has been there all night but is now going home. Hector is keeping Freddie company.' Randall lifted the eggs onto waiting plates where they joined the rashers and toast. He turned off the stove and carried the food to the breakfast table. 'I didn't tell her about the papers, poor girl already has too much to worry about.' They sat down together in companionable silence, each picking up a paper. The Hour, and the fallout, Satchwell, Stern, Cilenti, Ms DeLaine, filled up the first several pages of each paper Randall had bought. 'We've certainly made our mark,' Lix commented as she sipped her coffee, 'I only wish it had not been at such a price.'

'Quite.'

Breakfast concluded Randall went to collect the cutlery and plates. Lix rested a hand on his forearm, 'Darling, you cooked me breakfast, I can cope with the washing up,' Randall looked at her sceptically, 'I do keep a clean kitchen, don't I?'

'I assumed that was because it was never used.'

Lix smiled, 'Horrible man. Don't you remember how I used to make omelettes?'

'I risked my life with each one.' They smiled openly at each other now, newspapers forgotten. Randall adjusted his tie, 'I should go.' Lix tried to sound breezy, 'Of course. You'll be in the office?' He got to his feet and neatly refolded the newspaper he'd been reading, 'Within the hour.'

She fetched his coat while he collected his things from the bedroom. After a couple of minutes Lix wondered what was so time-consuming. Aware that he may have rituals to perform she picked up the portrait her niece had drawn. Perhaps she didn't look so bad after all. Randall emerged, looking guilty, 'I, ah, I've made the bed.' Lix laughed as she helped him on with his coat, 'How infuriating you must find it here! Nothing perpendicular, everything askew...' They looked at each other for a long time, him in good order, only his stubble an indicator that anything was amiss, she barefooted in her dressing gown. Lix lent in to kiss him on the cheek. As she did he said, 'I can put up with askew for you.' Reaching for the door Lix said, 'I shall see you at work Mr Brown.' Randall's lips twitched, 'As soon as possible please Ms Storm'.


End file.
